No Shortage of Humanity
by Queen of the Castle
Summary: "I was just kissed by a tree," Rose points out. "A tree."  Rose/Jabe, Nine/Jabe


Author's Notes: 'The End of the World' AU if Jabe didn't have any family cuttings on hand to give as gifts. There are a number of ways to give the gift of bodily saliva, and who says the Mox of Balhoon has to be the one to think of that? ;)

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><p>Rose once heard her Mum's friend Bev describing her latest bloke as a bit of a 'wooden kisser'. At the time, Rose was a bit too young to have any real idea what on Earth Bev was talking about (though she would have denied her ignorance to the death at the time, of course, because she wasn't some little <em>kid<em>). Rose had tried to imagine, though, what Bev's words might mean, and had come up with a mental picture of a man with lips as rough as tree bark. She wasn't at all surprised that apparently that was considered to be a bit of a deal-breaker for the relationship.

Now Rose – well and truly old enough to have learned a thing or two about kissing by now – is having a strange flashback to that moment in her childhood and thinking that it's probably just as well Bev never _really _went through something like this, as that much younger Rose had imagined. Bev had trouble even dealing with her favourite shows being taken off the telly. This would have sent her off screaming.

The tree-woman-thing that strides confidently up to them barely even pauses to introduce herself as Jabe before she bestows her 'gift of peace' on Rose.

The scrape of Jabe's bark-like skin over Rose's lips is surprisingly not all that different from the way Jimmy's lips used to always be chapped almost to the point of bleeding. Jabe's mouth is still somehow yielding and oddly soft, and the tongue that caresses hers for a moment is no different to that of anyone else Rose has ever kissed. She can't deny that it's pleasant, and for a moment Rose allows herself to be slightly swept away by it, letting the weirdness of this world the Doctor's dropped the two of them into fade away for a while so that she doesn't have to deal with it. This – kissing, something that she thinks of as so integrally human – is something she can handle.

It's a shocking reminder, then, to open her eyes and see a mixture of plant and person just inches from her face. Jabe's eyes are so very human, but they're set in a face of bark, and her hair is made of _flowers_, of all things. Rose's breath catches in her throat. She doesn't think she knows quite how to deal with this.

Jabe proceeds to almost nonchalantly share a similar 'gift' with the Doctor as though she hasn't just pulled the ground out from under Rose. The Doctor doesn't seem to mind, obviously a lot more accustomed to this sort of strangeness. When the two of them separate, the Doctor smiles at Rose as if there's nothing at all wrong.

In his case, of course, there's really not. This must be just a day like any other for him. He's an alien, too, and he's probably met more species of aliens than Rose has individual people. _Rose_ is an alien to him, even. As much as he might look human, this finally cements it for Rose that he's really _not_.

The Doctor's return gift of air from his lungs is a bit redundant, given that he and Jabe have just been breathing each other's oxygen even more personally, but Rose just bets he's got nothing else on him that he can afford to give away. She's barely known him for a few hours in total, and already she's figured out that he's never as prepared for eventualities as he makes out. How could anyone ever be properly prepared for all of _this_, anyway?

She's certainly not. Even the Doctor himself is too much of a stranger for her to even be certain of him. He could just as easily be a threat to her as any of the other beings on Platform One. That thought just makes the whole thing seem so much worse, suddenly. If it turns out she can't count on him, then she's got no one, and she might end up stuck here all alone.

Her planet is about to _explode_ out there just beyond that window, and she's the only real human here (and maybe anywhere out there, for all she knows), and she's just been _kissed by a tree_. Maybe one day Rose will be able to just take this sort of thing into stride without a thought, but not yet. Not today.

Overwhelmed, she finds herself stumbling outside the main observation room with no memory of even having moved. Her head swims slightly and she feels a little sick from dizziness.

She must make something of a scene as she staggers away, since the Doctor pries himself away from the attentions of their persistent new tree lady friend almost instantly. He follows just a few seconds behind her, looking worried. He catches her by the upper arms as she leans against the wall. She knows he's only trying to help – she probably looks like complete rubbish, pale and unable to stop herself from gasping slightly – but she can't help but shrug him off all the same. He may not _look _as alien as the trees or the flap of skin or blue people with cat-like eyes, but he's still not human. She's only just beginning to figure out what that might actually mean. It's just a little too much to have him touching her right now.

"Come on, now," he says, "it's not all that different from your time. They've got tree-huggers then, too."

"Oh, thanks, make it into some kinda joke," she accuses. She glares at him. He just grins. "You laughin' at me is _just _what I need right now."

"Maybe it is. You feel better, don't you?" he points out.

She has to admit that she kind of does. She's not about to tell _him_ as much, though. She's still mad at him, and rightly so. She doubts he's so _completely _alien that he couldn't have predicted how this sudden overload might affect her.

"Seriously, though, I was just kissed by a tree," Rose points out. "A _tree_."

"So was I," the Doctor points out. "Not bad kissers, trees, as it turns out."

Her lips twitch against her will. Apparently, alien or not, he's such a _bloke_.

It's that touch of something familiar to her that makes her ultimately take his hand.

They're going to have _words _about all this later, Rose swears to herself. But for now, reminded that he's not just another alien, but rather a man who saved her life to just a few days ago and who wanted her along as company enough to ask her twice, she thinks he's convinced her that he's an ally after all.

Rose lets the Doctor lead her back out into the craziness, finally a bit more confident that she can take it all in without having some kind of a breakdown or something.

She can't help but roll her eyes when the Doctor makes a beeline straight back towards Jabe, though. _Definitely _a bit of bloke, there.

Jabe, Rose quickly learns upon their second encounter, isn't just a surprisingly good kisser. She's got some serious personality, and is even more brazen than the willingness to just randomly walk up and snog a bunch of strangers would suggest. Even though Rose is taken aback by how blunt she is, she finds she's kind of intrigued by it as well. She's never met anyone quite like her, even putting the whole tree thing aside.

When Rose finds out later that Jabe is among the many beings who haven't survived Cassandra's scheme, she remembers the press of foreign lips on hers.

Yes, she'd been kissed by a tree. But it was no different, in the end, than being kissed by any other person. Rose doesn't mourn her any less than she would have a fellow human being.

The Doctor offers her comfort in that emotionally distant way of his, taking her back into her own time to show her just how much life there still is on this planet she's just seen explode. But Rose can't help but remember that somewhere and sometime out there in the universe has been made just a tiny bit less bright for the loss of a tree with a sly smile and an unexpectedly captivating kiss.

Rose promises herself that she won't forget that first loss. She gets the feeling, with the Doctor clearly getting himself into so much trouble all the time, that it won't be the last.

~FIN~


End file.
